


hot as hell

by alteridemlynch



Category: Lucifer (TV), Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Lucifer - Freeform, M/M, basically a lucifer AU, detective adam parrish, devil ronan lynch???, no knowledge of lucifer necessary though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26455618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteridemlynch/pseuds/alteridemlynch
Summary: Adam's a detective.Ronan's the actual Devil.(a pynch Lucifer AU)
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 54
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is *loosely* based on Lucifer. Will definitely be quoting something stuff from the show (because the writing is so good) but not a direct parallel You don’t need to watch Lucifer to understand this fic! 
> 
> Only thing that you need to know is that Ronan is Lucifer. I eventually work a way into the plot to change his name to Ronan (so it's easier to follow), but bare with me for the first few chapters!

“Any witnesses?” detective Adam Parrish asked, surveying the crime scene in front of him: a luxurious night club and a dead body. Adam wasn’t much of a club-goer so, despite living in LA for nearly 7 years now, he had yet to visit the infamous Lux. And now he was visiting it under a rather unfortunate set of circumstance.s.

“A few club-goers that Mendez is already talking to over there,” Gansey, his partner, said, gesturing to a fellow LAPD officer interview a group of scantily clad men and women. “And the owner of the club, Lucifer.” Gansey nodded towards the grand piano ( _weird choice for a night club,_ Adam thought) where a man sat plucking the keys idly.

Adam’s first thought was this: the man was beautiful, in a sharp, almost harsh kind of way. He wore a dark tee shirt a leather jacket, with his hair buzzed off. Adam could make out the hint of a tattoo popping out of his collar and he wondered what it was.

“Lucifer?” Adam asked, curious. Gansey just shrugged, scribbling something in his notebook.

Adam took a breath and walked over to the mysterious man. “Uh, Lucifer?”

The man cocked his head upwards with a snarky grin. “In the flesh.”

“Hi, I’m detective Adam Parrish with the LAPD. I just had a few questions I’d like to ask you about tonight.” The man just raised his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. “Your name is Lucifer.”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Last name?”

“Morningstar.”

“Like the devil," Adam joked. 

“Oh, you know of me?” he asked, genuinely.

Adam, confused, rolled his eyes. “Is that a stage name or something?”

“God given, I’m afraid,” Lucifer groaned, plucking the _C_ key in emphasis.

“Alright, _Lucifer,”_ Adam said, jotting down the name. “Can I ask what your relationship with the victim was?”

“Sarah used to work here,” Lucifer began. They went on for a few minutes - Adam asking questions and Lucifer answering with a strange smile on his face. To Adam, the man seemed innocent, though definitely a little off. But one thing wasn’t making sense to him:

“One more question, Mr. Morningstar . . . How did the victim end up dying in a hailstorm of bullets, but you walked away without a scratch?”

Lucifer shrugged, taking a long sip of his scotch, eyebrows raised mischievously. “Just a perk of immortality.”

Adam squinted at him. “Right.” Adam was too tired to even question that — it was nearing 1 am and he did not have the energy to unpack this man’s fake celestial persona.

“So what are you and your little officers going to be doing about Sarah? You gonna find the person who did this and punish them?” Lucifer asked, standing up from the piano bench, glaring daggers at Adam. “Are you going to bring Sarah some justice? Or are you gonna let that monster run free?

Adam scoffed. He’d dealt with many, _many_ horrible people in his line of work. But for some reason, this phony Lucifer guy was irritating him even more.“You’ve got some balls on you . . .”

“Oh, thank you very much, but they’re really quite average,” Lucifer grinned, looking downwards, a proud smile on his face.

Adam just swallowed hard, trying to let his annoyance (and slight amusement, if he was being honest) slip away. “Alright, we’re done here.” Adam snapped his notepad shut and walked in the direction of Gansey, who was finishing up with the other witnesses.

“Detective!” Lucifer called, touching his shoulder lightly. “I’m serious. You’re gonna find the guy right?”

Adam saw something in his eyes he hadn’t seen before — genuine worry. _The man may be crazy, but he’s not a killer,_ Adam thought. He took a deep breath and nodded. “We’re going to try our best, Mr. Morningstar.”

Lucifer looked at him for moment longer before nodding solemnly and returning to the piano. Adam watched as he played, just plucking out notes randomly, with curiosity. The man had a wicked, cunning side to him, that was for sure, but there was something . . . delicate about the way he was playing the keys. Something gentle. 

_Who is this Lucifer?_

But that wasn’t the case Adam was trying to solve right now. He gathered his things and exited Lux, heading back to the station. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Hands up, LAPD,” Adam shouts, kicking the door open, gun pointed outwards.

After hours of investigating, interviewing, and examining evidence, Adam had tracked down Sarah’s killer — a 35 year old man named Hank Garfield — to a stuffy apartment on the outskirts of LA.

Inside said apartment, however, he did not expect to see Lucifer there as well.

“Ah, detective, so glad you could join us!” The man grinned, holding his hands up in the air in a mocking fashion. “Don’t worry, I’ve already tied up dear old Hank, here, and removed his weapon.” He cocked his head to a gun that was on the floor, about 7 feet away from Lucifer. Hank was, indeed, tied up on a chair — where the rope came from, Adam couldn’t tell you. Perhaps Lucifer had brought it? It wasn’t that far-fetched of an any idea.

Adam looked hesitantly to the officers behind him, and nodded, gesturing for them to drop their weapons. “What are you doing here, Morningstar?” Adam sighed.

“Well, I wasn’t sure how seriously you were taking my friend’s _murder_ so I decided to take things into my own hands. So I tracked down the killer for you.”

Adam looked between Lucifer and Hank suspiciously. Hank seemed . . . genuinely terrified. From what Adam could tell, there wasn’t a single scratch on him. But somehow, Lucifer had scared him—enough so that he’s not even fidgeting or fighting to escape.

Despite his curiosity, Adam decided to deal with Morningstar later. “Hank Garfield, you’re under arrest for the murder of Sarah Cartwright. You have the right to remain silent . . . “ he began, working with another officer to untie the rope and cuff the man, who didn’t say a single thing, but surrendered willingly into their custody.

When the other officers had taken him into the squad car, heading for the station, Adam stayed back, bagging Hank’s gun for evidence. Lucifer lingered as well, watching him as he sealed the bag shut. “Am I going to get a thank you, Parrish?”

“For what?” Adam grunted.

“For catching the killer, of course!”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I, so clearly I had figured it out too,” Adam pointed out.

“Yes, but who knows where Hank could have run off to if I hadn’t gotten here first,” Lucifer smirked.

Adam wanted to reply with some sort of snarky comeback, but he didn’t have anything. Lucifer was right — without him, Hank could have been long gone by now. But he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that little fact. Instead, he pointed out something else. “And how exactly _did_ you catch Hank? And why the hell did he look like he’d seen a ghost?”

“Well, I _told_ you, Detective, I _am_ the Devil,” he grinned. “A bit scarier than a ghost, I’d hope.” Lucifer crossed his arms casually, leaning back against the wall. Adam finally took a moment to really look at him: his sharp cheekbones and striking eyes, his broad shoulders and pointed nose. He was draped agains the wall in a bold yet delicate way. He looked like the embodiment of sex, of _desire_ , and Adam couldn’t help but feel attracted to him (despite the clear identity issues).

Adam brushed the thought aside.“And the case? How’d you solve it?”

One corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “I have a talent for drawing out people’s deepest desires. I just asked Hank what his was and he confessed.”

“Uh huh . . . “ Adam said skeptically.

“I’ll show you,” Lucifer said, pushing off the wall and walking towards Adam, only a few inches between the two men. He was a few inches taller than Adam, so he tilted his head down to look at the detective, that stupid smug grin on his face. “Tell me, Detective, what is it you truly desire?”

Adam looked him in the eyes and decided to play along. If he was going to be a snarky asshole, Adam would be one too. “I . . . desire . . . to . . . forget that we ever met and never see you again,” Adam grinned, stepping back.

But Lucifer was frozen in place, staring confusingly at Adam. “It didn’t work?”

Adam sighed, fed up with this whole thing. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is, Morningstar, but I have to get back to the station.”

“Wait, Detective!” Lucifer called, but Adam was already out the door.

——————

“Nice job, Parrish,” Lieutenant Childs told him back at the station, after a proper confession had been made, the paperwork filed, and Garfield on his way to prison.

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” Adam smiled, stacking the pages neatly on his desk. “Have a good night.”

“Hey,” Gansey said from his desk across the room. “Wanna grab a drink? To celebrate?”

Adam leaned back in his chair, considering it. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but after working nearly 14 hours straight on this case, a drink sounded good. “Sure,” he smiled. “Where to?”

Gansey’s face lit up, as he knew Adam rarely ventured out at night. “Wonderful! I was actually thinking, it might be interesting to head to that club from earlier.”

Adam almost choked. “Lux?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s apparently the hottest nightclub in all of LA and neither of us have been . . . well, aside from today’s murder investigation,” Gansey added, straightening his glasses.

“The two of us at night club? Really, Gansey?” Adam said, almost laughing. The image was pretty preposterous: two fairly straight-edged, ivy league detectives in a slick, sensual club. But the thought of potentially seeing Lucifer—as much as Adam hated to admit it—was intriguing. He was a mystery to Adam, and Adam wanted to, _needed,_ to solve mysteries.

Gansey just shrugged, waiting for Adam to think it over. Adam, reluctantly, nodded. “Alright. _One_ drink,” he said, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair.

“Splendid! I’ll drive,” Gansey smiled. The two piled into Gansey’s Camaro, a bright orange monstrosity that Adam was constantly surprised still worked.

When they arrived at Lux, the place was packed, with a line wrapping nearly around the corner. The two men joined the end of the line, chatting casually about work and weekend plans. After about five minutes, a security guard approached them. “Detective Parrish?” he said, eyeing Adam.

“Uh, yes?”

The guard nodded his head towards the front of the line. Adam and Gansey exchanged a look of confusion, but followed the man anyway. “Enjoy Lux,” the guard said, gesturing to the front door.

“Why—“

“Lucifer hopes you have a pleasant visit,” the guard said to them before turning away, back to the hoard of young partiers in line.

“That was weird,” Adam said, sliding into a side table.

“Probably just a thank you for solving the case,” Gansey shrugged. Adam didn’t think much of it; it was better than waiting outside for who knows how long. “I’m gonna grab us some drinks. Hold down the table?” Gansey said, leaning in close to Adam’s good ear to make sure he could hear over the loud, pulsating music. Adam nodded thankfully and watched as Gansey pushed through the crowd towards the bar, where a short, eccentric, and slightly scary looking girl was pouring drinks. She had spiked colorful hair and warm, dark skin covered in a strange corset of sorts.

He was too busy watching as Gansey leaned in to tell her their orders that he didn’t notice the present on his right.

“Detective! So nice of you to stop by,” Lucifer grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know if anyone's actually reading this! comments make my day!


	3. Chapter 3

Adam jumped a little bit, surprised, and turned to face Lucifer. He was dressed the same as earlier — leather jacket, dark jeans—and the only notable difference was the beer in his hands. Adam could tell: he didn’t just own this place, he belonged here. 

“Thanks for letting us cut the line,” Adam said, trying to calm his heart. “It’s a, uh, nice club you’ve got here. You know, when there’s not a dead body on the ground.”   
Lucifer barked out a laugh — a delicious, intoxicating sound— and Adam couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, things are usually quite better without dead bodies.”

Adam smiled awkwardly, unsure of what to say while Lucifer just stood there, seemingly content to stand in silence. Luckily, Gansey returned with their drinks, a large grin and a hint of blush on his face. “Lucifer! I’m Detective Richard Campbell Gansey III, from this morning.” Ronan’s eyes widened at the mouthful of a name. “Thank you for hosting us, ” Gansey said, passing Adam his glass. “I was just talking to that lovely bartender of yours about the case this morning.” 

“Lovely?” Lucifer scoffed. “Blue is not lovely. She’s a demon. Literally.” 

“Right, and she followed you from Hell to L.A.,” Adam said sarcastically.   
“Exactly, Detective,” Lucifer smirked. 

Gansey looked utterly perplexed, glancing nervously back towards the bar where the girl—Blue—was filling a tray of mysterious blue shots. He kept watching her, a light smile on his face. 

“Oh, Detective,” Lucifer said, seeming to have just remembered something. “Remember earlier? When I asked you about your deepest desires and it didn’t work?” 

“Yes . . . “ 

“Detective Gansey,” Lucifer said, turning to him. “Can I ask . . . what is it you truly desire?” 

Gansey, who had previously seemed rather cheery, got a strange expression on his face. His eyes seemed to grow wider, staring right into Lucifer’s, and his mouth flattened out. It was almost trancelike. “I . . . I want to find Glendower,” he whispered. 

Adam looked, confusedly at Lucifer. It wasn’t unlike Gansey to talk about his secret obsession of finding the Welsh King (he talked about it all the time with Adam) but it was a strange thing to randomly confess to some nightclub owner he’d just met. 

“Not sure who Glendower is, Detective Dick, but hope you find him!” Lucifer raised his eyebrows at Adam, as if to say see, I told you! Adam didn’t know what to make of this mysterious conversation. 

“Uh, thank you,” Gansey said, shaking himself out of his stupor. “I don’t know if I appreciate the nickname though—“

“Sorry, boys, I must be going.” Lucifer met eyes with someone off to Adam’s left. Adam turned and saw a tall, willowy man covered in body paint leaning against the elevator. Lucifer smiled at the two of them, excusing himself. “Enjoy your night.” He nodded to them before sauntering off to meet the man at the elevator. Adam couldn’t stop watching as he took the man in his arms and kissed him almost sloppily before dragging him into the open elevator. The doors closed on the two of them pressing against each other. 

Huh. Another thing Adam had not been expecting from Lucifer. 

“Adam?” Gansey asked. 

He’d been staring; he hadn’t realized. He blinked his eyes, facing Gansey again. “Sorry. Uh, I thought—“ 

“He’s a strange character, isn’t he?” Gansey wondered, sipping his cocktail. Adam nodded in agreement. “What do you make of the whole Devil act?” 

Adam shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. It could be some sort of persona he’s deeply committed to….Or, I don’t know, maybe he actually believes he’s the Devil. Some sort of psychological manifestation from his subconscious.”

Gansey nodded thoughtfully. “Well whatever it is, he’s rather convincing.” 

Adam laughed. “Yes. Yes, he is.” 

————

The rest of the weekend went by in a blur; Adam caught up on some sleep, did some work, and even managed to clean his apartment. And on Sunday evening, just as he was getting ready to crawl into bed with his book, his cell rang, alerting him of a new case. 

Adam got dressed and drove to the crime scene, an Italian restaurant across town. When he got there, he found that the head chef had been poisoned; all of the staff were being held for questioning. 

Henry Cheng, the forensic scientist, was kneeling over the dead body, a middled-aged man named Julian, taking photos. “Talk to me, Henry,” Adam said. Henry began rambling on about the crime scene and evidence, his face overly excited, as if he were telling the plot of movie and not a murder. Henry was a wonderful CSI, but he was always a little over the top. Adam didn’t mind though; it brought some light into an otherwise dark job. 

“So you think it had to be a staff member?” 

“Well, based on the fact that—“

“Not Julian!” A familiar, annoying voice called. Adam turned around to see Lucifer bursting through the crowd of officers and witnesses, a look of pure shock on his face, mixed with a bit of anger. “I can’t believe it! I’ll never have his meatballs again.” 

“Lucifer, what are you doing here?” Adam hissed, pulling him aside. He then noted the black raven perched on Lucifer’s shoulder, which somehow also seemed mournful (whether for Julian or the meatballs, he didn’t know). “And is that a raven?” 

“Oh, this is Chainsaw,” Lucifer said, stroking the birds’ feathers gently. 

“Of course it is.” Adam sighed; he truly didn’t know where to begin with this man. “And you’re here because . . .” 

“Because this is my favorite restaurant in all of L.A. And trust me, I’ve tried them all, as I’ve been around for centuries.”

“Right, and . . .” Adam prompted. 

“And I was taking a walk with Chainsaw.”   
“You walk your bird?” 

“No, I walk with my bird, Detective. I thought you were supposed to be smart,” he smiled, teasing. “I was walking with Chainsaw when I saw the cars pulled up around here, and I had to see what was going on.” 

Adam shook his head, not sure where to begin with his response. “Alright. So you knew Julian?” 

“I knew his meatballs.” Adam gave him a look and he continued. “I’ve been coming here for years, practically weekly. He and I were friendly, that’s all. He’d try out new recipes on me and I’d get him a free drink at Lux every now and then.” 

“Julian went to Lux?” Adam asked, a bit shocked. Julian, despite maybe only being 50 years old, did not look like the nightclub type. 

“Oh, yeah, the man was a partier,” Lucifer grinned wickedly. 

“Do you know of anyone that would have wanted to kill him? Perhaps someone on the staff?” Adam asked, gesturing to the group of chefs and waiters huddled in the back corner, talking anxiously. 

“His niece, Anya, has always been on rocky terms with Julian.” Lucifer gestured to a girl with long black hair and smooth olive skin. She looked hysterical, mascara drying on her face. She was maybe in her early twenties, if that. Her ears were pierced multiple times, and Adam could just make out the edge of a tattoo peaking out of her collar.

“Yeah?” 

“Her parents died a few years ago and he became her guardian. They had some, uh, disagreements about how she should live her life,” Lucifer sighed. “Do you want me to question her?”

“What? No, you’re not a detective, Lucifer.”

“No, I mean with my devilish charm,” he smirked. “Ask her what she desires?” Before Adam could even reply, he was walking over to where Anya stood, sniffling quietly. Adam groaned and followed him. 

“Anya Gennaro? Lucifer Morningstar, with the LAPD.” 

“He is not with the LAPD,” Adam grumbled, stepping up next to him. “But I am, and we have a few questions.” 

“Uh, okay,” she mumbled, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. 

Adam opened his mouth to begin, but Lucifer gently placed a hand in front of him. “Anya . . . what is it that you truly desire?” 

Anya got the same look on her face that Gansey had at the club — slack jawed, eyes wide, hypnotized. “I . . . I want to get away with it,” she admitted. A moment after, she clasped her hands over her mouth, shocked at what she said. Adam’s own jaw dropped, confused and amazed and unreasonably annoyed all at the same time. 

“Get away with what? Murdering your uncle?” Adam asked. 

“I didn’t mean to,” the girl sobbed, her walls down, defenseless. “It wasn’t supposed to be him, I promise. I never wanted to hurt him.” 

“Anya Gennaro, you’re under arrest for the murder of Julian Gennaro,” Adam said, cuffing her and reading her her rights. She sobbed but didn’t resist, her own guilt making her compliant. 

“Case closed, then,” Lucifer grinned, watching as another officer towed her away. Adam looked at him, curiosity bubbling inside of him. What is up with this guy? “Aren’t going to thank me, Detective?” 

Adam rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Lucifer. I don’t know what’s up with your weird eye thing, but, thank you.” Adam, despite his annoyance, was grateful. He helped catch a killer and had made his job easier. But that didn’t mean he liked it—whatever it was that Lucifer was doing. “You, uh, have a knack for getting people to open up.” 

“Except for you, Detective,” Lucifer said, his voice softer that before, contemplative. 

“Except for me,” Adam agreed. They looked at each other for a moment longer and Adam felt something stirring inside him, though he didn’t know what. He blinked, looking down, breaking the stare. “Well, I should get going.” 

Chainsaw, who was still perched calmly on Lucifer’s shoulder, cawed loudly, making Adam jump a bit. Lucifer smiled, stroking the bird. “Goodbye, Adam.” 

He felt a strange pang in the pit of his stomach at the sound of his name, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He swallowed hard. Sucked in a sharp breath. Looked back up at the other man. “Goodbye, Lucifer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so Ronan is kind of slipping OOC into the TV Lucifer (becuase of the nature of the plot/character) but I am trying to keep him Ronan-ly but it's very hard. Hopefully it's not too OOC.
> 
> What do you guys think? Should I keep going?


	4. Chapter 4

Adam arrived at work to find none other than Lucifer Morningstar leaving the Lieutenant’s office. Both men looked….flustered. Like they’d just—

Oh my god, Adam thought, taking in their slightly disheveled clothes and flushed cheeks. 

“Detective Parrish; we were just talking about you,” the Lieutenant said. 

Adam fought the urge to gag. He did not want to know how he came up in conversation during….that. “You were?” he coughed. 

“Yes, Mr. Morningstar here is going to be joining you as a Civilian Consultant from here on out.” 

Adam just stared blankly at them, not fully comprehending, while Lucifer had a wildly satisfied grin on his face. “We’re going to be partners, Parrish!” 

“Him? A Civilian Consultant? On…homicides?” Adam clarified, not quite putting the pieces together. 

“Yes. After helping you on two of your most recent cases, I think he’s proved a worthy associate,” Childs said, straightening his tie. “Anyways, there’s a new case on your desk, so get to it, you two.” Childs smiled at them, his gaze lingering a bit longer on Lucifer, before heading back into his office. Lucifer stood there, smiling giddily like a child, and waiting for Adam to say something. Adam just stared at him, trying, once again, to figure him out. He took a deep breath and tilted his head towards his desk, where a small file was sitting. Lucifer reached for it, but Adam slapped his hand over the file, locking it onto the desk, before he could grab it. 

“We can’t ‘get to it’ without reading the case, now can we, Detective?” Lucifer teased, trying to move Adam’s hand off the file. 

“Hold on. I just . . .” Adam took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily. “If we’re going to do this, be interviewing people, examining evidence, I need . . . I can’t call you Lucifer.” 

He scoffed “Why not? It’s my name.” 

“So you say.” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Look, I don’t know what your whole devil thing is about, but I can’t have people focusing on your…character instead of the actual murder. It’s too distracting and, well frankly, confusing,” Adam said, crossing his arms. 

Lucifer examined him for a moment. “Fine. But for the sake of the murder victims—not your disbelief of my identity,” he said. “I’ll consider it . . . going under cover.” 

“Sure,” Adam rolled his eyes. “So what should we call you? Something simple, less biblical perhaps.”

“Your name is biblical,” Lucifer pointed out. 

“Yes, but my name is actually on my birth certificate.” 

“I never had a birth certificate, being that I angels don’t really require that kind of paperwork, but I can assure you if I had one, Lucifer would be on it,” he argued. 

“Look, you already agreed to go by an, uh, alias, or whatever, so just pick a name.” 

Lucifer looked at Adam and he could feel the heat of his gaze. Adam once again was struck by how handsome, how truly beautiful this man was. His appearance did seem somewhat unearthly—all perfect lines and chiseled muscles—as if he were truly plucked out of heaven. “Fine. Ronan.”

“Ronan?” Adam asked, confused. 

“Yes, Ronan,” Lucifer—or Ronan—agreed, almost aggressively. Adam wanted to ask about the name, inquire about such an oddly specific choice, but he knew better than to push it. Instead, he just nodded. 

“Alright, Ronan, let’s solve a murder,” he said, opening the folder.

———

It turns out, he and Ronan made a pretty great team. Despite the constant bickering and smart-ass comments, the two of them managed to solve murders at a seemingly record pace. Adam did most of the actual investigative work while Ronan talked to witnesses, family members, suspects—anyone he could, trying to draw their deepest desires from them and see if they aligned with a motive for murder. 

Adam still had no idea how he did it, why his question (what is it you truly desire?) never, ever went unanswered, but he gave up on figuring it out once it proved to be a literal life saver. With Ronan’s help, they were able to catch deranged maniacs and blood-thirsty exes and put them behind bars. 

And Adam was beginning to enjoy it, working with Ronan. 

He had his downfalls, of course. He casually slipped the whole “devil thing” into interrogations multiple times. He often drank (or smoked) while working. He was always late. And he sometimes got too aggressive with suspects—holding them against the wall or pinning them on the floor. Adam had to yell at him, remind him that that wasn’t how they did things, until Ronan eventually calmed down. 

But it was worth it, if they were catching killers. 

One day, after a particularly hard case, Ronan suggested Adam, Gansey and Henry stop by Lux that night to celebrate. 

“Ah, I don’t know,” Adam said, looking at his watch. It was already 8pm (two hours from bedtime for Adam Parrish) and he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of being immersed in the jostling nightclub again. “Lux isn’t really my scene, Ronan. Once was enough.” 

“Give it another try, Parrish. “

“And I still haven’t managed to go,” Henry added, bouncing eagerly on his heels. Where the guy got all his energy from, Adam would never know. 

“I wouldn’t mind going and having a, well, a drink,” Gansey said, stuttering a bit. Adam could tell that by have a drink he actually meant have a drink served to me by the attractive waitress. 

“You can’t leave me alone with Dick and Cheng, Parrish,” Ronan added with a smirk. 

Between Gansey’s hopeful look, Henry’s excitement, and Ronan’s point, Adam couldn’t say no. 

“Fine. To Lux!” Adam said with a regretful smile. The others cheered and headed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. sorry for this being a short chapter. truly not sure if I'm going to continue this or not, since I don't think anyone's really reading it? I don't know...should I keep writing it? 
> 
> 2\. tried to switch over to Ronan's name in this chap. Kind of a cop-out but I felt like it was necessary. Let me know your thoughts on this!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the comments saying to continue this! I'm so glad people are enjoying it :) you give me a reason to keep writing! 
> 
> anyway, this may be my favorite chapter so far. hope you like it!

When they got there, Ronan guided them through the swarm of people waiting outside. Some girls cheered at the sight of him and he smiled charmingly, giving them a wave. He was somewhat of a celebrity to this crowd, Adam realized.

“Hey boss,” the security guard nodded as they approached the velvet-roped entrance. He peeled back the rope and the four of them stepped inside.

It was even busier than the last time they’d been there. Dancers were moving sensually on tables across the club. Lights flashed vibrantly. The music pulsed so loudly Adam could feel it in his bones—for once he was almost grateful for his deaf ear, to cut the noise in half.

“I’m going to fetch us some drinks,” Gansey said cheerily. Adam followed his eye-line and saw that Blue was working at the bar, clad in a strange assortment of fabrics that one could barely call a dress.

Adam laughed at the warmth rising on Gansey’s cheeks. “I’ll just take a soda.Coke, please,” he said.

“Get me one of those sparkly pink things,” Henry smiled, gesturing at a woman sipping one at a nearby table.

“Lucifer?” Gansey asked.

“The demon knows my usual,” he grinned.

“Alright then,” Gansey said. “Be back in a few.”

“Take your time, Ganseyboy,” He smiled, wiggling his eyebrows. “ _I’m_ going to go chat up _that_ young man over there.” Henry sauntered over to a guy standing off to the side, swaying to the music alone. Adam watched as Henry introduced himself, the other man grinning at him.

Adam turned back to Ronan to find that he was looking at him already. Adam looked down shyly, clearing his throat. “Nice work today,” he mumbled.

“Just doing my job,” Ronan said, shrugging casually.

“You’re good at it, though. You really have a knack for detective work. God knows we’d still be trying to track down the killer without your help today.”

“My dad doesn’t know shit,” Ronan grumbled.

Adam pursed his lip. “Right...”

When Ronan said stuff like that, Adam never knew how to respond. It wasn’t like he was going to play along, nod in agreement and pretend that Ronan— _Lucifer_ —is really the devil. What good would they do? Further some sort of psychological delusion? Adam didn’t want to be a part of that.

The music switched then, to some senseless electronic song that made Adam’s head hurt.

Ronan must have noticed. “If you want, we can go up to my penthouse where it’s a bit quieter. Besides, it looks like Detective Dick and Blue are having a good time…” He gestured to the two of them, who seemed to be chatting as Blue worked, their drinks forgotten on the bar. Well, Gansey seemed to be chatting—Blue seemed to be listening out of obligation, nodding and occasionally mumbling a word or two. But, Adam sensed, if she really was annoyed by Gansey, she’d tell him so.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Adam agreed. It _was_ loud, and both of his friends _were_ occupied (Henry, Adam could see, was not making out ferociously with his new friend). “Wanna grab our drinks?”

“Leave them. I’ve got better stuff upstairs anyways.”

Ronan held out his hand and Adam hesitantly took it. It was warm and rough against his own, but it felt nice. Ronan pulled Adam through the crowd of club goers, weaving in and out of people until they reached the elevator. Once there, Ronan dropped his hand, and Adam felt strangely disappointed.

Upstairs, Adam was shocked by the apartment before him. It was...not what he has expected from Ronan, though Adam couldn’t say what exactly he had expected.

The apartment was gorgeous, with floor to ceiling windows and a glistening chandelier, brick walls and a grand piano. But what surprised Adam was the comfortable, settled-in feeling of the place. With shelves of books and seemingly hand-knitted blankets, paintings and pictures covering the walls. It didn’t match the decor of the nightclub downstairs at all, no leather or velvet. It looked like a home.

“This is lovely,” Adam smiled.

“Not what you expected, Parrish?” Ronan grinned, heading over to the bar cart in the corner. He had been right—Ronan’s personal selection was much nicer than what they had downstairs. “Still just want a Coke?”

Adam considered this. One real drink couldn’t hurt, right? And it was free, something Adam would rarely pass up, even after years of being financially stable. “No, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Ronan nodded, taking a bottle of expensive whiskey and pouring out two hefty glasses. Adam took a sip, his eyes widening at the taste of it. “Wow, this is…nice,” he laughed. Not being big on drinking, Adam had never spent more than maybe $15 on alcohol in his entire life. The most expensive stuff he’s had has been with Gansey, at nice restaurants or the occasional get-together at his apartment.“Where’d you get this?”

“It was a gift from Sinatra,” he said casually, gulping the remainder of his glass down.

Adam stuttered, nearly spitting. “As in Frank?”

Ronan pointed a finger gun at him. “That’s the one,” he smirked, heading over to the large, gray couch in the center of the room and taking a seat. Adam followed him, sitting just inches apart. “We used to play together at a small jazz club in Jersey. I eventually left—because, well _Jersey—_ but we caught up every now and then over the years.” 

Adam didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or punch a wall at the ridiculousness of the statement. He took a deep breath and opted for a different route. “Ronan . . . why can’t you ever just tell the truth?”

Ronan furrowed his brow, looking at Adam with a level of sincerity he hasn’t seem before. “I always tell the truth, Detective.”

“No, you don’t. You just told me you use to play piano with Frank Sinatra — that’s not the truth, Ronan, it can’t be!” Adam argued, getting a bit worked up.

“I never lie, Detective. Never,” he said, firmly, his jaw tense.

“Well maybe you don’t think you do, but you _do,_ Ronan. Or ‘Lucifer’ as you’d like to believe,” he replied, putting the devil’s name in air quotes. “I don’t know what’s going on in your brain, what makes you think that you’re the devil, but I don’t . . . I don’t know if I can handle this any longer.”

Ronan inhaled sharply, his eyes cast downwards at the floor, avoiding Adam’s. “What do you mean?”

Adam sighed, pressing his eyes shut for a moment of relief. “I can’t keep working with you if there’s always going to be this wall between us, this false persona you have. I can’t let myself f-“ he stopped, shutting his mouth tightly and looking away.

To Adam’s surprise, Ronanmoved closer to him on the couch, their thighs touching. “Let yourself what?”

Adam looked up and met Ronan’s icy blue gaze. There was something soft in his eyes, something gentle and tender and warm. Ronan was usually all toughness and cynicism and smart-ass replies. But Adam knew this right here was the real Ronan. The one he cared about. “Let myself fall for you,” he whispered, surprised as the words passed his lips.

“Detective,” Ronan breathed. “Adam,” he said, and hearing his name—his first name, not _detective_ or _Parrish_ —on his lips was like a gift and a curse all at once. Ronan leaned in, closing the space between them, and Adam followed, their bodies tilting inwards and their noses nearly touching and—

And then the loud ping of the elevator arriving, jolting them apart, and Gansey and Blue rushing into the penthouse. “Childs just called. There’s been a triple homicide; we have to go,” Gansey said as Blue plopped herself down on the opposite side of the couch, clearly at home in the apartment.

Adam looked at Ronan, whose eyes were still trained on him, and opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Go. I’ll see you in the morning,” Ronan said, standing up.

“You’re not coming?” Adam asked. He didn’t know whether he wanted Ronan to say yes or no; his head was fuzzy.

“No, I think it’s best you and Dick sort this one out tonight.”

It was a rejection, Adam knew. Not to the case, but to his admission. He tried not to show it on his face, the disappointment, as he nodded and grabbed his jacket.

“Let’s go,” he told Gansey, walking into the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> isn't it interesting how both Lucifer (TV) and Ronan never lie? And both only call their S/O's by their first names when they're all emotional? Just some observations as I write!
> 
> Let me know what you're thinking. Comments make my day


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: brief descriptions of murder/violence 
> 
> Also I have no idea how a crime scene works so please excuse my horrible attempt at describing detective work :)

In the car ride over, Adam was quiet. His head was reeling, replaying his conversation with Ronan, the look in his eyes, the way their thighs were just touching. Gansey didn’t seem to notice—he probably thought Adam was just getting mentally prepared for the crime scene. But Adam, after ten minutes in the car, needed to take his mind off of Ronan, their “moment”, and broke the silence.

“You have fun with Blue?”

Ganseys’ face instantly lit up, a slight blush rising on his cheeks. “Yes! She is . . . well, she is probably the most interesting woman I’ve ever met,” Gansey answered as he made a left turn. “A little intimidating, but I think she likes me.”

“Oh yeah?” Adam asked, a slight grin on his face. He’d been friends with Gansey for a while, as they met in training years ago, but he’d only dated a handful of girls over the year, and never someone for a very long time, similarly to Adam. Both of them worked too much and were too particular when it came to who they dated. Neither had met someone they really could see themselves with. Until . . . well, Adam tried not to let his mind go there. 

Gansey’s blushed. “Her shift actually ended a few minutes after we arrived, and instead of leaving, she actually sat down and had a drink with me.” Gansey’s smile was triumphant and Adam couldn’t help but smile.  At least one of our dating lives’ are going well,  Adam though wryly.

“I tried to ask her about Luci—, uh Ronan—but she didn’t want to talk about him. Do you know what their relationship is like?” Gansey asked.

Adam shrugged. He had only met Blue a handful of times at Lux, and he was half terrified and half mesmerized by her. “I don’t know. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with all the metaphors and stuff. He calls her a demon a lot, but I’m not sure how to interpret that,” Adam started. “They’ve apparently known each other their entire lives, though. So childhood friends? He’s said she was ‘created to protect him’ but that’s just . . . well, you know,” Adam laughed. It was easier to laugh about the whole thing, to think of it as some weird quirk of Ronan’s, then to think about what it all really meant. 

“Oh, I know,” Gansey agreed. Both of them were now used to Ronan’s strange commentary about his devil-ness, that it was best not to think too hard on it. “Blue seems to go along with his charade, but I’m not quite sure why. She mentioned earlier that she had no soul, despite me trying to convince her that she does.” 

“Demons are soulless,” Adam agreed. “According to Ronan.” 

“Yeah,” Gansey said, a sad look on his face Adam wondered if Gansey felt the same way as him—hesitant to get involved with someone who had such strange walls built up around them—but they were pulling over outside a large townhouse, where cop cars and ambulances were already gathered. 

The two detectives got out and headed inside. The house was full of people and it took a minute for them to find the actual scene of the crime, the living room, where three bodies were propped up on the couch, each with their throats slashed, blood dripping down their necks and caking their clothes. Adam had seen worse—far worse, unfortunately—but the saddest part was that it was clearly a couple and their kid, a young boy, maybe 7 or 8. Adam felt his heart sink deeper. 

“Fill us in, Henry,” Adam said, looking away to the CSI, who was taking photographs. 

“So the victims were actually killed in separate rooms and then brought here. You can tell from the tracks of blood,” Henry pointed, and Adam took notes at he continued to explain the strange situation. 

After talking to Henry, more officers, and exploring the rest of the house, Adam and Gansey were still oblivious as to who could have done this. “First thing in the morning, let’s talk to both of their bosses at work, see if anything strange was going on. And closest fiends and family, of course. We should talk to the kid’s teacher at school, just in case there’s anything there. Cheng’s gonna see if anyone of the prints we got come back, but my guess is they’re all from the victims. Killer clearly planned this out if he went to to the trouble of dragging 3 bodies down a flight of stairs and setting them up here, so I doubt he left prints.” The other officers nodded as Adam finished explaining his plan. When they were done, they dispersed, finishing their jobs, and Adam turned to Gansey. “Let’s go home, get some sleep, and do some interviews in the morning. I’ll get a list together and send you an  “We should bring Ronan. I have a feeling he’s going to be helpful with this one,” Gansey added.

If he noticed the strained look on Adam’s face, he didn’t say anything. Adam just nodded, trying not to think too had about Ronan. “Yeah. I’ll text him.”

“You want a ride home?” Gansey asked.

“No, my cars still at Lux,” Adam sighed. Lux was in the opposite direction of Gansey’s apartment from here, and Adam wasn’t going to make Gansey drive there and back this late at night, with an already small window of time for sleep. “I’ll just Lyft there and drive home. Thanks, though.”

Gansey nodded, used to Adam turning down his simple offers of generosity, and said goodnight. Adam pulled out his phone, ordered a car, and went home.

At home, Adam laid down, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. His mind drifted to that moment at Lux, the words he whispered: _let myself fall for you._ It was too late, though, Adam knew.   
  


Much like the angel Lucifer himself, Adam had fallen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no idea how crime scenes work. This is supposedly all happening around 1am. Do detectives go home after the initial investigation? I don’t know! But let’s pretend they do! 
> 
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated :) and DMs are always open on tumblr @alteridemlynch


	7. Chapter 7

After hours of interviews, Adam, Gansey and Ronan finally had a solid lead on the killer. The entire morning, Adam had avoided Ronan as much as possible, jumping away from his as if he'd been electrocuted every time Ronan got within 2 feet of him. If Ronan noticed (which he probably did; subtlety was not Adam's forte), he didn't say anything, but just focused on the case. There were minimal clues--no prints, strands of hair, or shreds of DNA left behind--but Ronan's strange "desire" trick and both detectives' skills lead them to their top suspect: Beth Gailson. Beth was the ex-lover of the murdered family's father. That gave a motive, albeit a weak one, and they were hanging on to it. 

"Let's get an APB out on Gailson," Adam told one of his officers after interviewing Beth's boss, who reported she wasn't at work today. "Gansey, get in touch with Beth's family; see if they know anything, have seen her, etc." Gansey nodded, heading off. Adam, reluctantly, turned to the other man beside him. "Ronan, come with me to her house. I doubt she's still there, but could have some clues." 

"Oh, you're acknowledging my existence _now,_ Parrish?" Ronan retorted. 

Adam didn't have time for this--Ronan had rejected him, Adam had ignored him, and now here they were, trying to solve a triple homicide. The triple homicide had to be prioritized. "Car, now," he snapped, heading outside. 

They drove in silence. Ronan flicked on the radio, but Adam immediately turned it off. Luckily, Beth's house was close to station. 

"LAPD, open up!" Adam shouted after knocking on the door repeatedly to know available. He had one hand on his holster, ready to fire his gun if necessary. "If you don't answer the door, I will be forced to break in," Adam added after another moment of silence. He raised his arm to knock yet again, but was pushed away by Ronan, who aggressively kicked down the door in one quick motion. 

"Ronan!" Adam gasped, partly because he was annoyed by Ronan's affinity to violence, partly because he was amazed by the sheer strength Ronan possessed. He was a big man, sure, but it looked like it had taken him literally _no effort_ to break down the door. He couldn't be _that_ strong, right? 

"She wasn't answering," Ronan shrugged, stepping over the broken slab of wood and into the home. 

"Miss Gailson? Are you here? This is the LAPD," Adam said, holding his gun out in front of him. "Ronan, stay behind me," Adam added as an afterthought. If Beth was here, hiding, there was a high chance she would try to attack them. Adam had a weapon, and was a trained agent who could take care of himself. Ronan, while seemingly strong and scary, was unarmed; Adam couldn't let him get hurt. 

"I don't think she's here, Parrish," Ronan grumbled, definitely _not_ behind Adam, wandering through the kitchen. 

"We have to sweep the whole ho--damn it, Ronan, wait!" Adam called as Ronan ponded up the stairs ahead of him. Adam rolled his eyes ( _why_ did he like this guy?) and followed him. 

"She's gone, Parrish," Ronan said when Adam came to stand next to him, in the doorway to her bedroom. Adam looked and understood immediately: the closet doors were thrown open and the majority of hangers were empty. The drawers to her dresser had been closed haphazardly, with bits of clothes sticking out. Beth had clearly packed and fled in a hurry. "Fuck," Adam groaned. he knew finding her here was a long-shot, but he'd hoped, just once, a case could be easy. But of course, it never was. 

He called Gansey, filled him in, and learned that the other detective had a possible destination for Beth. Her father owned an industrial storage facility just outside of the city; it'd be an easy place for Beth to hid. "We'll meet you there." 

Adam and Ronan got back in the car and headed east towards. Adam was planning on keeping it quiet, once again, but Ronan had other plans. "Look, Parrish--"

"Can we focus on the case, please?" he grunted. 

"We have a 40 minute drive ahead of us, can we just talk?" Ronan asked, annoyance seeping in his words. Adam couldn't argue though; he was entirely right. He nodded slightly. "About the other night--"

"It's fine. We can forget it ever happened." But as he said it, he was remembering it, vividly: Ronan leaning in close, their noses brushing, the warm feel of Ronan's breath dancing on his skin. 

"No, Parrish-- _Adam,"_ he breathed and Adam felt his heart stutter, just a bit. He swallowed hard. "I don't want to forget it. I wish Detective Dick never walked in . . . I wish . . . I wish I could have kissed you, Adam. Like I've been wanting to do since the fucking moment I saw you," Ronan admitted. Adam felt like he'd just run a marathon: his heart racing, his face flushed, his lungs struggling to breathe. It took everything in his power to keep his eyes focused on the road, to not turn and look at the man sitting next to him. 

"But you . . . you didn't come with me to the crime scene," Adam stuttered. "I thought, I don't know, I had read it all wrong." 

"You didn't, Adam, fuck, you didn't, I'm sorry," Ronan said, reaching across the dashboard and placing his hand gently on top of Adam's on the steering wheel. He risked a slight glance over at Ronan, who took his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing his knuckle gently. Adam wanted more, to look at him longer, touch him, kiss him for real, but he turned back to the road, swallowing his desires. 

"If we weren't trying to catch a homicidal killer, I'd pull over and kiss you right now," Adam laughed, blushing red at the admission. Ronan smiled--the private, wholesome smile, not the fake charming one he put on for show--and Adam's chest fluttered. 

"Later," Ronan promised, kissing his knuckles again, then letting their hands rest, interlocked, between them. They were silent for a moment, just taking it all in, but then Ronan spoke, softer now, shyly. "I'm not great at telling people how I feel."

"Oh, really?" Adam laughed. 

Ronan snickered, but stayed quiet, soft. "I spent a lot of time--a long, _long_ time--in Hell alone. Blue was there, and some other demons, but it was lonely. Just me and thousands of souls being tortured. No one that I could really talk to, or care about. And it's all . . . it's all new to me, Adam. You and the way I feel about you--it's foreign territory." 

Adam pursed his lips. He understood everything Ronan was saying--the loneliness, the fear. He'd been there before, growing up with his family. Never feeling comfortable with anyone. But he didn't know what to say about the rest of it, the whole _Hell_ part. "Look, Ronan, I--"

"I know you don't believe me, Parrish," Ronan laughed. "And that's okay. I can be Ronan for you, not Lucifer, until you're ready." 

Adam sucked in a hard breath, and turned to see the other man, his blue eyes staring straight at him. Adam felt like he could melt under his gaze. "Okay," he agreed. He didn't fully know what it all meant, or what was going on inside Ronan's brain, but he knew he cared about him, and wanted this to work. 

"Okay," Ronan repeated, nodding. 

They stayed silence the rest of the drive, but it was a good kind of silent. The kind that calms your bones and warms your skin. Silence that you can sink into like a mattress, soft and comforting. 

When they pulled into the facility and saw Gansey's squad car parked there, it pulled both of them back into reality, to the case. "Right," Adam said, stopping the car, smiling at Ronan. "Let's catch her." Backup had pulled in behind them, and Adam signaled for them to stay outside, guard the perimeter. 

They entered the large building, which seemed to be abandoned. "Gansey?" Adam called softly. "Gansey are you here?" They weaved through the rows of units--there were hundreds of them; it would take a long time to find Beth, if she were here. He took out his phone, and texted Gansey, asking where he is. 

A moment later, they heard a soft _ping,_ unmistakably a cell phone going off, and followed the noise, which echoed through the room. They rounded the corner, getting closer to where they heard the noise, with Adam's gun held out in front of him, his left arm gesturing for Ronan to stay back. 

He sharply turned the corner, unsure of whether he'd find Gansey or Beth, braced for either. 

But what he saw was both: Gansey, tied and gagged on the floor, and Beth, looming over Gansey, a gun pointed straight at his head. "Shoot and I kill him." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was honestly a hard chapter to write, as I have no clue how to write a murder investigation, but I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter will be a big one (if you're a Lucifer watcher, you may be able to figure out what parallel scene I'm kind of working towards? or not! who knows!)
> 
> anyway, comments and kudos mean so much to me. love hearing your thoughts! will try to update soon :)


	8. Chapter 8

Adam held his breath, locking eyes with Gansey, who looked frightened but brave. He made a noise, maybe trying to speak, but it came out as a muffled blur through the gag.Adam’s hand, which had instinctually, reached behind him to wrap around Ronan’s wrist, tightened slightly. “Beth, put down the gun,” Adam said in a soft, steady voice, channeling every ounce of courage he had left. He’d faced plenty of hostage cases before, but never someone he cared about. Never _Gansey._

Beth just smiled eerily at him, pressing the gun into Gansey’s temple. “Why don’t _you_ put _your_ gun down, huh?”

“Alright,” Adam nodded gingerly, setting the gun on the floor slowly and raising his hands. “Now please let Detective Gansey go.”

Beth laughed, an awful, grotesque noise. “And why would I do that? So that you can arrest me? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Adam looked to Gansey, who was shaking his head subtly, indicating that he needed to focus on catching Beth, not saving him. But Adam wouldn’t, _couldn’t,_ do that. “What exactly is your plan here, then?” Adam asked. “We have the building surrounded; you’re not getting out of here. If you cooperate with us, it will be a lot easier for you in the long run. We don’t have to make this difficult.”

Beth looked worriedly between Gansey and Adam, her gun shaking slightly in her hands. Adam’s seen her type before: the overly confident first-time murderer, thinking theycan magically get away with their crime and move on like nothing happened. He decides to tell her so, to poke at her fears. “You thought you could get away with killing a whole family, leave town, start a new life. That if you cleaned up the crime scene, didn’t leave any DNA, we’d never find you. But people talk, Beth, and turns out you weren’t as careful as you thought. And now here you are, with nowhere to run, after killing three innocent people.”

“He deserved to die!” Beth yelled.

“Aw, did he cheat on you with his wife? Poor baby,” Ronan whined sarcastically. Adam shot him a warning glance.

Beth glared at Ronan ferociously. “Who the fuck is he anyways?”

“I'm the Devil,” he smiled maliciously.

What happened next, Adam wasn’t quite sure. It happened simultaneously in slow motion and super speed, but Adam didn’t think he could make sense of it in normal time. But what he knows is this:

  1. Something shifted in Beth’s expression — a look of horrendous fear; complete and utter terror.
  2. Adam heard a gunshot, or maybe three, and moved instinctually to block Ronan.
  3. Ronan was on the floor, bleeding out of his chest.
  4. Beth was gone, lost in the maze of the storage facility.



“RONAN!” Adam cried, kneeling over him. He had three gunshot wounds across his torso, one of them dangerously close to his heart. It looked fatal—he needed medical attention, _now._

“I’m fine, Parrish,” he coughed, pressing his hand against his stomach. Gansey was saying something unintelligible through his gag, wiggling on the floor. “Go—get her!”

“Ronan, you’ll die,” he choked, scrambling to find his walkie talkie to call in an ambulance.

“I’m fine — immortal, remember?” Ronan laughed, but there was a strange look in his eyes, something faded and distant. For once, it seemed like he was lying, or at least doubting himself, finally aware of his mortality.

Adam took a deep breath and shrugged off his jacket, pressing it into the wound closest to his heart. “Keep pressure on this,” he said, hoping Ronan had enough strength to do so.

And then he picked up his abandoned gun and ran after Beth, sending a message over radio as he ran. _Backup will help Ronan. He’ll be fine._ But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. Even if he was taken in an ambulance immediately, he’d die in transit. He’d lose too much blood. He’d be dead before Adam got back to him. Before he could say goodbye.

Adam choked as he ran, trying to shove the grim thought to the back of his mind.

The facility was a labyrinth, but Adam was fast, and smart. He followed the hallways in the most obvious of paths—Beth would be too scared, too high on adrenaline to think about throwing him off the trail. He hadn’t heard the elevator dinging, so he knew she was still on this floor. He followed the distant sound of footsteps until he heard them stop. Adam tiptoed around the corner and saw Beth standing at the end of the hall, a dead-end, sobbing violently.

“Beth Gailson, you’re under arrest for the murder of Marcus, Allison, and Jessie Richards. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be held against you,” Adam called, stepping towards her, gun still raised.

“I didn’t mean to kill them,” she cried as Adam came closer. Adam didn’t believe that—the murder had clearly been deliberate—but he’d figure that out in the interrogation room later.

“Drop the gun. Hands behind your back,” Adam ordered, and Beth obeyed, her collected exterior from earlier completely abandoned. Adam cuffed her, grabbed her gun, and wound back through the the maze of units until they reached their original spot.

Another officer was helping Gansey out of his restrains, his glasses askew, a look of relief on his face. Another two took Beth from Adam’s hand, hauling her out to the squad cars. Adam searched the scene for Ronan but . . . he was gone.

“He’s outside,” Gansey said, coming up behind him. _Oh god,_ Adam thought, picturing him dead on a gurney, already rolled outside to be taken to the morgue. “He’s fine,” he addd, seeing the look of concern on Adam’s face.

Adam let out a sigh of relief, smiling slightly,, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Gansey nodded, patting Adam on the back. “I’m alright. Thank you, Adam. You should go see him though . . . I think. Well, you’ll see for yourself”

Adam nodded, confused and anxious, and then turned away, weaving once again through the halls until he reached the exit. He saw an ambulance, a gurney, but it was empty. The EMT’s were sitting inside casually, as if nothing was wrong. Adam twisted his head from side to side, scanning the area for—

“Parrish,” a voice said from behind, making him jump.

Adam whipped around and saw Ronan standing behind him, his lips curved in a devious smile. “Oh my god, Ronan,” Adam gasped, collapsing against him, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Ronan hesitated for a moment before wrapping his own arms around Adam. Adam pressed his forehead against Ronan’s neck, breathing in the scent of him. “You’re alive,” he whispered, grateful.

And then . . . “You’re _alive,”_ he said in shock, stepping back. “ _How_ are you alive?” Adam scanned his body, looking for the wounds, but found none. His shirt had three holes in it, where the bullets had been, but the skin peeking through was smooth, unharmed, despite being splattered with blood. “I thought she killed you.”

“Oh, she did,” Ronan shrugged, casually. “But I made a little deal with Dad, and now here we are.”

Adam would have to unpack that later, but in the moment he didn’t care; his mind was too flooded with relief to think about the logistics of surviving 3 bullets and coming out unharmed. Instead, he pressed himself against Ronan once again, his arms cupping his face, and kissed him.

Adam had kissed plenty of people before, but it was never like this. Never this electric. It was like something inside of Adam, some little spark, finally ignited. The kiss was slow and warm, heat pooling inside of Adam’s chest and stretching through his body. He wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by the heat, by Ronan, in his entirety.

Ronan grabbed at the fabric of Adam’s shirt, pulling him in closer, and Adam wished they were somewhere else, alone, where he could rip the shirt off and feel Ronan’s hands against his bare skin. Touch Ronan’s skin himself. Uncover the mysterious tattoo that lingered under his skin. But they weren’t alone . . . they were at a crime scene.

The reminder of their reality pushed Adam away, taking a step back from Ronan, a delirious smile on his face. “Uh,” he mumbled. “We should — I should — probably get back to the office,” Adam fumble mindlessly with hem of his shift, feeling embarrassed and flustered.

Ronan laughed, a beautiful, melodic sound, and Adam looked up again meeting his eyes. “Alright, Parrish. Back to work,” he said, lifting his hand and placing a kiss on the inside of his wrist. “Will you come over after? For dinner?” Ronan asked shyly, a word Adam never thought could apply to him.

Adam nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He gave Ronan one last look before diving into the crowd of officers and CSI’s, finding Gansey, and heading into his car with him back to the office for Beth’s interrogation.

Gansey had an odd look on his face—a mixture of concern and understanding. “What did you mean earlier? About ‘seeing for myself’ with Ronan?” Adam asked once they were on the highway.

Gansey pursed his lips, clearly debating what to say. “I think . . . well, this is going to sound crazy, but I think Ronan’s been telling the truth this whole time.”

Adam looked over at him, the way Gansey’s hands were shaking slightly on the wheel. “What do you mean?” Adam asked, but he already knew the answer, and just been trying to suppress it, to deny it.

  
“Adam . . . ,” Gansey urged him quietly. “The whole Lucifer thing . . .”

“He’s been telling the truth” Adam gasped, sinking into his seat. “Ronan is really the Devil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun!
> 
> What do you guys think? I'm hope you're enjoying it. Only a handful of chapters left, so please let meou wa know if you have any input or things you want to see. 
> 
> Also for Lucifer TV watchers, I 100% swerved from my initial plan of paralleling the season 1 finale--I had a few similar moments, but I ultimately decided the parallel didn't work without loads more backstory and setup. But I hope this was still okay!


	9. Chapter 9

Adam didn’t want to believe it.

He _couldn’t_ believe it.

Ronan couldn’t actually be _the Devil._ That was _absurd._

And yet—

Adam swallowed hard. He remembered seeing Ronan get shot, seeing the wounds, wounds that would kill anyone. He remembers Ronan, perfectly alive and unharmed, embracing him. He remembers kissing Ronan, the feeling of fire and warmth and coming home.

He shuddered.

_I just made out with the Devil._

_I may be_ in love _with the Devil._

 _Fuck,_ he thought.

Gansey, who had given Adam a moment to process, reached over and placed his hand gently on Adam’s shoulder in comfort. Adam smiled weakly. They were only a few minutes away from the station and hours of work—he had to pull himself together. “Are you sure?” he asked after a moment, though it was a pointless question. But he needed to hear it form someone else, someone with solid proof, someone he trusted.

Gansey inhaled sharply, clearly debating his word choice carefully.“Before Beth shot him, there was this, well, this _look_ that Ronan gave her. This terrifying, monstrous look with his eyes glowing red. It was utterly horrifying,” Gansey admitted, a look of fear on his face. “I think that’s why she fired and ran—she was scared of him.”

Adam took this in. Red glowing eyes were definitely non-human, but could possibly be acquitted to Gansey seeing things in a state of fear. But added to the fact that Ronan had survived three bullets . . . well, the evidence was pretty clear. 

“Look, Adam, I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you two, but he’s . . . he’s still Ronan, right? He’s still the same mysterious, sarcastic club owner we’ve been working with for the past few weeks? Nothing’s changed, really.”

Adam barked out a harsh laugh. “Nothing’s changed? Gansey he’s the _Devil_. Satan. Evil incarnate!”

“Has he ever done anything evil, though?” Gansey asked, glancing at him for a brief moment before looking back on the road.

Adam considers this. Ronan had said a multitude of snarky comments. He’d gotten a bit too physical with suspects. He constantly mentioned his insane sex life. But he wasn’t _evil._ Not traditionally “nice” or “good” but not _evil._ Ronan cared about people, that much Adam knew.

“All I’m saying is that Lucifer or Ronan or whoever—he’s been wildly villainized in society and classical texts. He’s always been painted as the bad guy, but there’s not much evidence that he’s ever done anything that bad. Biblical studies aren’t my area of expertise, but I’ve read enough to know that there are many different perspectives on who exactly Lucifer is.”

They were pulling into the station. Gansey parked his car in his usual spot, stopped the engine, and looked over at Adam. Adam took a deep breath. “Alright. Thank you, Gansey,” he said. “I’m supposed to go to his place tonight. I’ll see what he has to say.”

“Great,” Gansey smiled. “And please let me know after—I’m just now realizing that Blue the bartender is quite probably a literal demon.”

Adam laughed at that, remembering the way the two of them were always flirting at Lux. Gansey joined in his laughter, shaking his head, and the two exited the car and got back to work.

———

Hours and piles of paperwork later, Beth was headed to a correctional facility and Adam was free to go. Gansey gave him a warm huge of encouragement before heading out, and Adam rushed back to his apartment to shower and change.

He was nervous, to say the least.

Nervous because this was supposed to be a dinner date, but it was more likely going to turn into a sort of interrogation. But Adam—despite what he now knew—wanted it to just be a date. He wanted some simplicity, some normalcy. Couldn’t he have that just once?

But no. He couldn’t forget what he knew, couldn’t brush the newfound knowledge away and pretend to have a normal date with Ronan. He had to talk to him.

When he got to Lux, the security guard smiled at him, pulling back the velvet ropes to let him inside. He maneuvered through the crowds of people —it was only 7pm, but the nightclub was packed already— and headed towards the elevator. He caught site of Blue, behind the bar, talking with a customer. She caught his eye and waved at him and he fought a small wave of nausea in his stomach before waving back.Seeing Blue, and knowing what he knew, made everything more real for him.

He rode the elevator up, shaking nervously, and almost decided he should just leave, turn around and go home, when the doors glided open. The penthouse was empty, Ronan nowhere in sight, but Adam smiled at the familiar, warm living room. The opposite of what you’d expect from the Devil, really. He walked over to the dinner table, which was set elegantly with candles and flowers, and traced his hand over the tablecloth. The apartment smelled delicious, like fresh herbs and butter, and Adam smiled at the assortment of pots and pans on the kitchen countertop.

Adam had not expected Ronan to _cook_ dinner. He though they’d get takeout, or maybe grab a bite somewhere casual.

But not this—all this care and time and energy put into a home cooked meal. Nobody had ever made him such a meal before, even past girlfriends and boyfriends. Nobody had done so much for Adam.

Adam blushed, his body tingling a bit with an indescribable feeling.

 _Focus,_ he told himself. _This isn’t just dinner. You need answers_

Those thoughts melted away when Ronan appeared, trotting down the steps from his bedroom, looking as handsome as ever. “Adam,” Ronan said, his face flushing immediately, contrasting his pale skin.

“Hi, Ronan,” Adam smiled feebly. He couldn’t help but take in Ronan’s appearance: his tight fitting pants and freshly buzzed head, the tips of a tattoo peaking out from his collar.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, seemingly shy. _Does the Devil get shy? Embarrassed?_ Adam wondered. He hadn’t ever thought of the Devil as more than one dimensional but Ronan . . . well, Ronan was so many things.

“Sure. Whatever you think,” Adam said, trying to keep it nonchalant. Adam watched as Ronan poured two glasses of wine and handed Adam one. He took a sip gratefully before setting the glass down on the table. Ronan stepped closer to him, so they were an arm’s length apart, and placed a soft hand on Adam’s waist. “Look, Ronan—“ he started. Ronan looked up at him expectantly, his brow furrowing a bit with worry. “We need to talk.”

Ronan raised his eyebrows, smiling deviously. “If this is about some HR shit about workplace relationships, I’ll quit happ—“

“I know who you are, Ronan,” Adam interrupted, forcing his eyes to stay locked on him, though fear was trickling through his body. Not fear of Ronan—he would never hurt Adam—but fear of the truth. Of what that would mean for them. “Or should I say Lucifer.”


	10. Chapter 10

_"I know who you are, Ronan,” Adam interrupted, forcing his eyes to stay locked on him, though fear was trickling through his body. Not fear of Ronan—he would never hurt Adam—but fear of the truth. Of what that would mean for them. “Or should I say Lucifer.”_

Ronan stepped back, realization dawning on him, and Adam’s heart broke just a little bit watching his face shift, the pain clearly evident there. “I never lied to you, Parrish,” Ronan defended. The switch to his last name did not go unnoticed by Adam, and he felt himself breaking apart, ever so slowly.

“I know, I know,” Adam said, feeling small. Ronan had all but admitted to being the Devil, and Adam was acutely aware of his humanity and mortality. “I just . . . it’s not the easiest thing to believe, you know?”

Ronan just nodded, his face unreadable, and took a long sip of his drink. “So let me guess, you never want to see me again? Want to resign from the LAPD? Pretend like we never met?”

“No, Ronan, _no,”_ Adam said, stepping forward, but Ronan stepped back. His face was masked in the harsh, intimidating stare he put on for strangers. Adam wanted to touch his face, to soften the hard lines, to twist his lips upwards into a smile, a kiss.“I just . . . I want to talk. Ask some questions.”

Ronan scoffed and head over to the couch, taking a seat. “Let me guess: are you really evil? How many humans have you tortured? Do you _like_ torturing people? Are you going to torture me? Did you—“

“Ronan, _stop,_ please,” Adam interrupted, almost shouting. He set his glass down on the bar and walked over to sit next to Ronan. Farther than they’d usually sit, a good foot or two between them, but still beside him. With him. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I still . . . I care about you, Ronan, you have to know that.”

Ronan swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the carpet, avoiding Adam’s gaze. “Even now?”

Adam moved a little closer, placing his hand tentatively on Ronan’s shoulder. “Even now.” Ronan finally looked up at him them, and Adam let out a breath of relief. Ronan moved his hand to gently cup Adam’s cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb.

“You’re not scared of me?”

Adam considered this. Earlier, he might have said yes, due to the shock. But now, thinking about it, with Ronan in front of him, the answer was obvious. “No.”

“You don’t think I’m ‘evil incarnate’?” he asked, using a laugh to cover up the sharp edge his voice took on upon saying the words.

Adam responded by pressing his forehead against Ronan’s, leaning into his touch. He wrapped his hand around Ronan’s neck, needing to hold him, to feel him. “You can be an ass sometimes, but you’re not evil,” he smirked. Ronan’s lips twitched upwards at that. “I’m not very religious so I don’t know a lot, but Gansey told me that . . . well, that not everything they say about you is true. Now that I know you, Ronan, the _real_ you, I know it can’t all be true. You’re a good person. I mean, you’ve been helping me catch murderers for the past few months; I don’t think an ‘evil’ person would be doing that, do you?”

Ronan breathed heavily. “Adam . . . I’m not . . . I haven’t always been the way I am now. I used to be . . . vicious and cruel and heartless. I spent thousands of years in Hell helping to torturing people just because my father said I should. I didn’t _like_ it but I didn’t try to stop it either.”

“You didn’t really have a choice,” Adam added, though he wasn’t quite positive if that was true (he really needed to do some biblical research after this).

Ronan pursed his lips. “No, but I could have left earlier than I did. Hell wouldn’t just go away—it’s still there, souls are _still_ being tortured—but at least I wouldn’t have been apart of it.”

Ronan was tense, his muscles taut and his face strained. Adam rubbed small circles in his back, hoping to soothe him just a little. “But you still left. You came here and you’ve become a better person, Ronan. A _good_ person.”

“Because of you, Adam,” Ronan smiled, his eyes lighting up. “You’ve made me better. You’ve made me human.”

Adam furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

Ronan sighed, pulling away for a moment, running his hands over his head. “I’ve never been shot before.”

“So? I’d say the majority of people haven’t . . . “

“No, I mean . . . I’ve never been shot before and had it actually wound me. I’ve never been wounded, period. I’ve never bled,” Ronan explained, standing up now and pacing a bit. Adam tried to process this—it made sense, angels were supposed to be immortal, but Adam had seen _lots_ of blood earlier, so it didn’t add up.

“So what are you saying?”

“Well, my brother th—“

“Wait, your brother?” Adam asked. Ronan had mentioned his siblings a few times in passing, but he didn’t talk about them much.

“Yes, Amenadiel. D, for short.”

“And he’s . . . an angel?”

“Yes. Daddy’s fucking favorite,” Ronan scoffed.

Adam nodded shakily. For some reason, processing that Ronan was the Devil was one thing—processing that the existent of other celestial beings was a lot harder. “Okay. Got it. Continue.”

“So, D thinks that you . . . that _you_ make me vulnerable, Adam. More human,” Ronan admitted, blushing a bit, his eyes distinctly pointed away from Adam’s.

“Why would I—I don’t—what does that mean?” Adam stuttered, trying to figure it out.

Ronan got quiet, stepping back towards the couch to sit beside Adam again. He took his hands in his and gave hem a gentle kiss. “I don’t know. I think it has to do with me feeling comfortable with you, letting my guard down. Feeling like a normal person, not the Ruler of Hell. Feeling like I could be happy.”

“And being happy makes you mortal?” Adam asked.

Ronan shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s probably just some cruel joke from my Father—“

“God?” Adam clarified.

“Yes, God,” Ronan said, rolling his eyes. “I mean he’s the mastermind behind all of this, obviously. Us meeting, me getting shot, it’s all part of his ‘plan’ or whatever.”

Adam had to laugh at that, the casual way Ronan discussed the very thing people spend their whole lives trying to understand. “So you’re saying your dad set us up?”

Ronan chuckled at that, burying his face in his hands, embarrassed. “Yes, Parrish, one can say that.” Adam smiled, enjoying the look of a happy-Ronan. He wanted to see more of that.

One thing was bugging him though— “Wait, if you were _actually_ shot then . . . “ _how are you alive?_ Adam thought. He didn’t need to say it; the shift in Ronan’s expression told him he understood. He sobered up, the smile wiped from his face, and looked at the floor again. “Ronan?” Adam whispered, getting worried. Something was wrong.

“Dear Old Dad offered me a deal,” Ronan grumbled. “He’d save my life if-“

“If?” Adam urged on.

“If I did him a favor in return.” Ronan stood up again, heading for the bar and pouring himself another whiskey.

Adam followed him, desperate to know more. “And what’s the favor?”

Ronan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Adam.It won’t effect you, okay?” Adam wanted to press, but he saw the look in Ronan’s eyes, and knew to back off. He’d tell him when he was ready.

“Okay,” Adam said, reaching out for Ronan’s hand and twining it in his. “So, what now?”

Ronan laughed, giving his hand a squeeze. “We can eat, if you want,I did cook dinner. ”

“God, yes, I’m _starving_ ,” Adam grinned. 

“My Father has nothing to do with your hunger, Parrish,” Ronan teased, going to the oven to reheat the food.

“Your Fa—Oh, right. ‘God’. Got it,” Adam laughed.

And for the rest of the night, it felt like t was just a normal date. Adam’s head was still racing with questions— _who’s the most shocking person in Hell? how does the system work? do you have any powers aside from the desire trick?—_ but they could wait. Adam didn’t want to bombard Ronan with question, and he probably doubted his mind could handle so much otherworldly information at once, anyway. So they kept he conversation light, swapping funny stories and snarky comments, as they ate (Ronan was a shockingly good cook, but Adam guessed thousands of years of practice could do that).

When they were done, and it was well past Adam’s bedtime, Ronan took Adam in his arms and kissed him, gently, softly. A quiet kiss. A question. _Do you still like me like this?_ the kiss seemed to ask.

While Adam wasn’t fully sure what dating the Devil would entail, he was desperate to find out. He pulled Ronan back towards him, kissing him hungrily, passionately, in response his question. Ronan smiled against his lips and so did Adam, so deliriously, strangely happy in this moment.

“I should get some sleep,” Adam said, gesturing towards the elevator. He could easily stay over—he _wanted_ to, to sleep beside Ronan and wake up next to him—but Adam knew they shouldn’t rush this. It was complicated enough as it is. Taking it slow was for the better. “Goodnight, Lucifer,” Adam whispered, kissing his cheek.

“Please call me Ronan?” he asked, his voice shy and quiet.

“Why? I know Lucifer’s not a pseudonym anymore.”

Ronan blushed furiously then. “Because I like it,” he admitted, punctuating the statement with a kiss to Adam’s forehead. “It’s your name for me. And I’m yours.”

Adam’s jaw dropped a little, his body warming at his words, his insides melting. “Yes, you are,” Adam smiled, kissing his lips innocently one last time before heading into the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait--had a lot going on. 
> 
> Sooo this chapter was a bit of a struggle to right because it's very different from the tv show and I also want to wrap it up soon, which is hard because Adam knowing opens up a billion different options. But hopefully this was okay? Thinking of one or two more chapters but not sure. Let me know what you think in the comments!!!
> 
> (also did anyone else see the teaser poster for 5b? literally SO GOOD)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has no pynch (i'm sorry) and is a bit short, but has some adam/gansey friendship and a bit of bluesey! next chapter will have pynch I promise. just felt like this was a nice buffer chapter after all the drama.

The next day was a Saturday, and Adam blessedly got to sleep in--which was good, considering he hadn’t been able to fall asleep till nearly three in the morning, his thoughts racing with a mix of questions for Ronan and desire for the other man.

He woke up at 10—a _very_ late morning for Adam Parrish—and checked his phone. Nothing from Ronan, but 3 texts from Gansey.

**(8:51) let me know how it went with Ronan**

**(8:53) I have some…developments as well**

**(8:54) coffee later?**

Adam smiled at his friends texts. He was curious to know what developments Gansey had made; knowing him, he’d probably spent the night researching every interpretation of the Devil, from the Bible to fantasy novels.

**_(10:07) I’ll pick up some coffee and head over_ **

He took a quick shower, checked his phone (no text from Ronan _or_ Gansey) and got dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. Gansey was an insomniac, and had likely fallen back asleep after texting Adam, so he figured he’d be home.

He stopped at his favorite coffee shop on the way to Gansey’s and grabbed two drinks and some muffins. After last night’s insanely delicious meal, he wasn’t particularly hungry, but he knew he should eat. And knowing Gansey, they’d be talking for hours.

Adam knocked on the door to Gansey’s apartment—an expensive one bedroom in the heart of Los Angeles—and waited patiently. It was quiet for a moment and then he heard the sound of something crashing and footsteps hurrying across the floor. A very flustered, half-dressed Gansey answered the door. “Adam! What a surprise!” he said. His glasses were crooked and his shirt was buttoned unevenly, his hair sticking up wildly and his cheeks flushed. It was the most-un-Gansey-like he’d ever looked; so unpolished and . . . _normal._

 _“_ Oh, sorry, I texted and I just figured you’d—“ Adam paused as something behind him caught his eye. A flash of unmistakable wild clothes and bright hair slipping down the hall into the bathroom. Blue.“Oh my God, _Gansey!”_ Adam laughed, putting the pieces together.

Gansey’s cheeks somehow burned bright. “I told you I had some new developments,” he shrugged, an embarrassed look on his face.

“Blue is your new development?” Adam smirked, stepping inside and kicking off his shoes. Clearly he had interrupted something, but he was not about to leave now. Gansey sighed loudly, shutting the door behind him and taking one of the coffees from his hand.

“Well, since you were talking to Ronan about you, know, _being Lucifer,_ I thought it’d be a good idea to do my own, um, investigation,” Gansey defended.

“And did you investigate?” Adam laughed.

Gansey shut his eyes briefly in embarrassment. “Well, I tried to, but—“

 _“_ But talking about Hell isn’t exactly my idea of a fun Friday night, so I shut him up,” Blue called, appearing from the bathroom in a clean set of clothes with her hair smoothed back into a complicated twist. She casually leaned against the kitchen counter, stealing Gansey’s coffee from his hands and taking a sip. Adam couldn’t help but stare at the strange sight: Blue, _an actual demon from Hell_ , with Gansey, usually so put-together, wrapped around her finger.

“Do you need the details of how I accomplished that?”

“Uh, no, I think I’m okay,” Adam stuttered, mildly uncomfortable. “Should I go—“

“No, I’m leaving anyway. Have to get back to Lux,” Blue smiled, rising on her tip toes to kiss Gansey on the cheek. She started to gather her bag and lace her boots when she noticed something behind Adam. “Oh!” she said, reaching behind him. Adam turned and saw what she was grabbing: a knife stuck in the wall. “Can’t forget this,” she grinned wickedly, twirling it in her hands and expertly tucking it in her belt. “Have fun gossiping about me and Luci, boys,” she called as she shut the door.

“Why was there a knife in your wall?” Adam asked. Gansey opened his mouth to answer, but Adam stopped him, adding on, “You know what? I don’t want to know.” Gansey just nodded awkwardly before gesturing to his couch, where the two sat down. Adam casually pushed the bag of muffins towards Gansey, who gratefully took one out and began picking at it.

“So, Blue is . . .”

“A demon, yes,” Gansey said, matter-of-factly. “And Ronan is . . .”

“Lucifer, yes,” Adam nodded.

“And you and Blue—“

“You and Ronan—“

“Yes,” they both said at the same time, embarrassed.

“Did you talk to Blue about . . . _it_? Or just—“

“Not a lot of talking,” Gansey coughed and Adam covered his mouth. .

After a moment of silence, they both laughed loudly, clutching their stomachs, faces red. “This is absurd, Gansey!”

“I know,” he grinned. “This all feels pretty preposterous.”

Adam rolled his eyes fondly at his verbiage. He was so grateful in that moment to have Gansey as a friend; someone he could not only trust with this immense knowledge of the celestial world, but also someone who was in the same position as him. This whole thing with Ronan was new and complicated and a bit scary, but at least he had a (human) friend to talk to about all of it. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wasn't going to post this today as I technically hadn't finished it (this is only the first half of the chapter I had imagined) BUT I needed something to distract me during this dreadful election news, and so I'm posting this half now! will try to finish and post the other half by the end of the week.....hopefully biden wins and I have motivation to write!
> 
> sending everyone love on this crazy night. hang in there. I hope this fic brings you at least a little bit of comfort/escape from our world right now.

Leaving Gansey’s apartment, Adam felt a lot better. The two still knew relatively nothing about the logistics of Ronan and Blue’s immortal lives, but had each other to confide in. Adam also felt significantly better having received a text from Ronan asking him to come over later, which he was a bit too eager to do. He nearly broke the speed limit ( _nearly_ —he was LAPD after all) on his way over to Lux, desperate to see him.

When he arrived at Lux, it was empty, a few employees cleaning up the place and restocking the bar for tonight. Inside the elevator, he tried to calm his nerves a bit. Why was he even nervous? The hardest part was over—Adam knew who Ronan was and still wanted to be with him—so why was he freaking out?

The elevator doors opened and Adam was utterly stunned by what he saw: Ronan, bleeding and bruised, on the ground groaning with Blue bent over him. Another man, who looked eerily similar to Ronan but with full hair and more slender frame, equally battered and bloody standing over them, one of Blue’s knives embedded in his chest.

The _ding_ of the elevator startled them all: Adam hastily stepped into the apartment before the doors closed and the three other snapped their heads towards him. “Adam,” Ronan gasped. Blue groaned. The other man sharply pulled the knife out of his chest and tossed it towards Blue, who caught it effortlessly, still looking at Adam.

“This him?” the man said, gesturing at Adam.

Ronan stood up, Blue offering her hand but Ronan shoving her off, and brushed helplessly at his blank muscle tee, as if that would clear the blood from his body. “Yes, Dickhead,” Ronan grumbled.

The man scoffed, shaking his head. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Luci?”

Ronan bit his lip, probably holding back a rude response, and turned to Adam. “Adam, this is my brother, Amenadiel. D, this is Adam,” he muttered.

“Pleasure to meet you,” D said, in a surprisingly kind way, extending his hand to Adam. Adam stepped forward, hesitantly shaking it and muttered a _you too._ “I’ll leave you, then. Remember what I said, Lucifer,” he said, straightening his suit jacket before stepping through the open balcony doors and seamlessly _jumping off the edge._

Adam’s jaw dropped, a scream starting in his throat. He was quickly silenced by the appearance of two massive, pure-white wings extending from D’s body as he jumped. They must have been ten feet wide, maybe more, making the man seem small between them. Adam watched in awe as he flapped the large wings and propelled himself swiftly into the sky, blending into the blue within moments.

Blue’s laugh brought him back to reality. Adam turned to look at her, her nose scrunched and head tilted back as she chuckled. “Now _that_ was entertaining, Parrish,” she grinned.

Adam coughed, feeling embarrassed. “Sorry I’m not accustomed to seeing people jump off of balconies, sprout wings, and fly off into the sunset,” he retorted.

Blue nodded, as if proud of his response. Ronan was still quiet, seemingly trying to process all of this. She looked between the two of them — Ronan, bloody and frozen, and Adam, confused and worried—and sighed dramatically. “Okay, that’s my cue. Second time I’ve been kicked out by you today, Adam.” She didn’t say it maliciously, but with curiosity, and Adam smiled shyly. “Don’t make it a habit,” she warned, twirling on of her knives, though there was a teasing quality in her voice that negated the threat.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Blue,” Adam smiled. He liked Blue. She was strange—and scary—but he liked her.

She stepped into the elevator. “Use protection,” she grinned, the doors shutting in front of her, and Adam blushed furiously.He turned to Ronan, wondering if he should ask or not. When Ronan stayed silent for a moment, except a loud sigh, his eyes still pointed at the ground, Adam moved closer and asked, “Are you hurt?”

Ronan shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look fine: a black eye was blooming already, his nose was still slowly dripping blood, and more than a few cuts covered his arms.

“I thought you couldn’t get hurt,” Adam said, closing the distance between them, running a hand gently on the side of Ronan’s face. Ronan sank into his touch, leaning into his hand and closing his eyes. “I mean, without me around,” he added, remembering that detail.

“ _Humans_ can’t hurt me,” Ronan admitted, meeting Adam’s eyes.

“What happened?” he asked, tentatively. Ronan, even when Adam didn’t know the full truth, has never been very talkative when it came to serious stuff, so Adam didn’t want to push. Ronan would tell him if he thought it was important; he trusted him.

“Just D being an asshole,” Ronan grumbled, taking Adam’s hand from his face and kissing his knuckles. “He wants me to go back to Hell. Well, _Dad_ wants me to go back to Hell and Amenadiel’s his fucking servant and came to deliver the message.”

“Okay,” Adam said, nodding. In the back of his head, Adam knew that Ronan might have to leave LA (well, leave the mortal world entirely) but he had brushed the thought away. Ronan had been in LA for, what, 5 years? In the span of _all existence_ , that was nothing. Surely he could stay for longer, right? “What did you tell him?”

“That I wasn’t going,” Ronan said, as if it was obvious. “That I had a life here. A business. A job, helping people. Friends and shit.”

“And shit?” Adam asked, his lips quirking up in a small smile.

Ronan’s ears grew red. “Yeah, and shit. That’s you,” he retorted, bumping Adam’s shoulder softly.

“So he finally found out you’re gay and you got in a fight?” he teased.

“Ha!” Ronan laughed. “No, he just . . . he wanted me to go back. Wanted to impress Dad and stuff. Tried to guilt trip me with some shit and I punched him and well, here we are.”

Adam wanted to ask more—figure out what exactly made Ronan detest Declan so much—but he knew he’d have to time for questions later. Right now, they had priorities. “Come on,” Adam smiled, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos comments make my day and I love talking to you all :)


	13. Chapter 13

Ronan raised his eyebrows as Adam pulled him by the hand towards the bathroom. He pushed Ronan to sit down on the edge of the tub and went through Ronan’s linen closet till he found a washcloth. He ran warm water over it and wrung it out. “Here,” Adam said, gently wiping away the blood on his skin. “Do you have any alcohol?”

“You want a drink, Parrish?”

“No, idiot,” Adam laughed. “I mean for cleaning the wounds. This gash here is pretty deep,” he said, gesturing to a large wound on his forearm. It looked like a knife had slashed him, but Adam couldn’t be sure.

“Yeah, I have a full fucking first aid kit for all the times I get injured,” Ronan retorted sarcastically.

“Right,” Adam nodded. “Do you, um, heal faster? How do it work?” He continued to wipe away the blood, just cleaning his skin. Ronan closed his eyes, enjoying the soft touches.

“Normally, yeah. I’d be fine in minutes. But since you’re here . . “

“Oh,” Adam said, dropping his hand. Understanding sunk in: as long as Adam was nearby, Ronan wouldn’t be able to heal. “Should I go?”

“No, fuck, no, Adam,” Ronan responded, grabbing at Adam’s wrist and pulling him down to sit beside him. “It’s not a big deal. I’m fine. I’d rather have you here,” he assured him. Adam nodded, blushing a little. Ronan kissed his nose and his smile deepened. “Just bandage me up or some shit so I don’t bleed all over the place.”

Adam laughed. “Well I assume you don’t own any bandages either?” Ronan just stared at him in response. “Alright, an old t-shirt?”

“Bottom drawer on the left,” he said, gesturing to the large oak dresser in his bedroom. Adam opened the drawer and was unsurprised to find the entire space filled with plain black tees. He laughed, pulling one out, and rejoined Ronan in the bathroom.

“I see you have quite an extensive wardrobe selection,” he teased, ripping the fabric of the t-shirt into a long strip. Ronan rolled his eyes in response. “Here,” Adam said, gently wrapping the makeshift tourniquet around the wound and tying it tightly. He then proceeded to wipe away the blood from under Ronan’s nose, which had luckily stopped bleeding, and washed his own hands.

“You secretly a doctor, Parrish? How do know how to do this?” Adam stilled for a moment before shrugging, unsure how to respond. He turned to dry his hands on a towel and saw Ronan staring at him. “Adam?”

“Um, it’s just basic first aid. All LAPD know it.” It wasn’t a total lie—LAPD _were_ trained in first aid. But Adam had been patching himself up long before he came to LA.

Ronan didn’t press though, just told him _thank you_ and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “This wasn’t what I had in mind for our second date,” he admitted once they had exited the bathroom and settled in on Ronan’s couch.

“What had you been planning?” Adam asked.

“Oh, nothing fancy, just a helicopter ride around LA or a private boat ride along the coast,” Ronan teased.

“Well, I think meeting your brother and patching you up is an _ideal_ second date. Probably the best second date I’ve ever been on,” Adam smiled.

“Oh yeah?” There was a hopeful glint in Ronan’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Adam confirmed, leaning over to kiss him properly on his lips—the first time since last night. Ronan’s hands immediately latched around Adam’s waist, pulling their chests together, and Adam’s looped around his neck. It was gentler than last night, less desperate but equally as nice. Adam marveled at how wonderful Ronan’s lips and hands on his body felt, leaving goosebumps all over. His body ached for _more more more._

“Can I?” he asked, tugging at Ronan’s shirt.

“Fuck, yes,” he grumbled, helping Adam take it off, revealing the skin and muscles that Adam had only imagined. His skin was smooth and pale and firm and _beautiful_ —Adam wanted to touch ever inch of it.

“You’re so hot,” Adam whispered, running his hands down his chest.

“Well, I _did_ spend the past few centuries in Hell,” Ronan teased, biting at his neck. Adam laughed at the absurdity of it all, guiding Ronan’s lips from his neck back to his mouth. Ronan desperately pulled at Adam’s shirt and he threw it over his head. Ronan stared at him and he felt a bit embarrassed—his body was nowhere near the perfection of Ronans. He had muscles, but was still fairly lean, and a myriad of faded scars covered his body. But Ronan didn’t comment on that; he just stared at him like _he_ was the one born in Heaven. “You’re incredible,” Ronan gasped, placing a kiss in the center of Adam’s chest, his embarrassment fading away at the warm touch.

As Ronan kissed up and down his chest, warmth tingling through his body, Adam found his eyes traveling to Ronan’s shoulders, where the edges of his tattoo were now visible. “Ro—hold on,” Adam said, pushing him off gently, a look of worry passing over his face. “No, this is good, Ronan, I just . . . I want to see your tattoo,” Adam admitted, blushing.

Ronan raised his eyebrows, surprised, but promptly turned around for Adam to look, saying nothing.

Adam had been expecting a tattoo—he knew as much from the tips of black that sometimes peeked out of his shirts—but he had not been expected what was hidden within the ink.

There were two large, crescent shaped scars embedded in the vines and tendrils of black marking his skin. Adam swallowed hard, looking at the scars, the placement at the symmetrical curves in between his shoulder blades. Adam knew what they were, logically, but he found himself stuttering, unable to fully process it. “Are they—“

“Yes,” Ronan sighed, his whole body rising with his breath. “I cut them off a long time ago.”

Adam reached out a hand and gently ran it over the scars, the rough skin puckered and gnarled but somehow still mesmerizing. “Did it hurt?”

“Like Hell,” he snickered, though Adam could sense the pain under his teasing tone. “I had Blue tattoo me after. A normal tattoo would heal in days, but she used a needle forged from demon steel in Hell so that it’d stick. It’s the same thing her blades are made of,” he explained.

“Why?” Adam whispered, though he already knew the answer. Had already _lived_ the answer.

“I couldn’t bare to see the scars,” he answered bluntly. “I needed to cover them up as much as possible.”

Adam understood. He traced the lines of the tattoo with the pads of his fingers. The tattoo was massive, spanning his entire back, full of leaves and feathers and complicated patterns. Adam wanted to memorize the whole thing, study it so intensely so that he could picture it vividly in his mind. He placed a soft kiss at the place where the two scars met and heard Ronan let out a shaky breath.

Ronan turned around, cupping Adam’s cheeks in his hands, and kissed him tenderly. When he pulled away, Adam took both his hands in his own, squeezing them. “My dad used to hit me,” he admitted, unable to meet Ronan’s eyes. Ronan was being open with him; he deserved openness from Adam in return, even if sharing his past terrified him. “That’s where my scars are from.”

“Is that why you’re deaf in one ear?” Ronan asked.

Adam was confused for a moment, nearly positive he’d never told Ronan this fact about himself, before remembering how observant Ronan was.“Yeah,” he nodded meekly, ashamed.

Ronan tilted his chin up so he could see him. Ronan looked at him the kind of care and warmth he’d never received. He felt safe under his gaze. “I’m sorry, Adam,” Ronan said after a moment. “No one deserves that. _You_ don’t deserve that.” He stroked his face and Adam closed his eyes, comforted by the touch.

“I know that now,” Adam nodded. “But I didn’t when I was a kid. I didn’t know . . .” he took a deep breath, steadying himself. “For a long time, I didn’t know if anyone could ever love me. I thought that there was something wrong with me, and that’s why my parents treated me the way they did. That I was missing something or doing something wrong. I didn’t think I was capable of being loved or . . . or loving someone else,” Adam confessed.

He didn’t have to say anything else: Ronan understood. He wrapped his arms around him, embracing him tightly, and Adam sunk into the hug. Adam had a feeling Ronan related to what he was saying—after all, he himself never thought of the Devil as the loving type.

But here they both were, holding onto each other, and somehow, impossibly, falling in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! that was the final chapter -- I'm planning on writing a little epilogue but I think that's a nice place to end the story. Please let me know your thoughts!


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wasn't entirely sure how to wrap this up, as the show is still running and there's a lot going on, BUT I decided on posting a little "montage" of Adam and Ronan's future. I think it worked out well? Let me know!

“Bludgeoned to death with a _cheese grater?”_ Adam gasped, surveying the bloodied kitchen tool in Henry’s gloved hands.

“It’s not a gouda way to die,” Henry smirked, proud of his dumb pun. Ronan rolled his eyes and Adam laughed sympathetically.

“Yeah, not _grate,”_ Gansey added a moment too late, a proud smile on his face. “Any suspects?”

“Well, the husband would be the obvious one, but apparently he has an alibi . . .” Adam began, telling the group all of the grim details of the case as they nodded intently. Henry continued snapping pictures of the scene and bagging evidence, while Gansey jotted down notes enthusiastically. Ronan just listened, his hand not-so-casually touching the back of Adam’s waist, making Adam blush slightly as he spoke.

“Ronan and I will go question the husband; see if his alibi is airtight or not, and try to get some info out of him. Gansey, why don’t you talk to the sister. Apparently they weren’t on the best of terms. Henry, see if you can lift any prints off the grater.”

“I'll do my best to help catch this munster that killed her,” Henry nodded and Adam chuckled under his breath.

“If you keep making these puns, there may be another murder here,” Ronan growled, though there was no real bite to it. Henry faked a look of fear before grabbing his kit and heading out.

“Come on, Ro, let’s go,” Adam said, gesturing towards the door. “Gansey; call me if you find anything.”

“Will do, Adam!” the other man grinned, saluting him in a way that would look ridiculous coming from anyone other than Gansey.

“See you, Detective Dick,” Ronan called over his shoulder as they headed out.

“You know you _really_ shouldn’t call him that,” Adam scolded as they climbed into his car.

“It _is_ his name; what else am I supposed to call him?” Ronan shrugged and Adam just shook his head again, a slight smile on his face, as they drove back to the office.

————

Working with Ronan was, surprisingly, better than ever. Before Adam had known his true identity, Ronan had been helpful on crime scenes, but also annoying, constantly making dirty jokes or scaring witnesses. But with Adam and Gansey both in the know, he seemed to behave a bit more professionally (which still wasn’t professional by anyone’s standard’s, but as professional as anyone could expect the Devil to act). Whether that was because he could be him true self or because he was content in his relationship with Adam and therefore less hostile, no one knew. But either way, Ronan quickly became an essential part to the LAPD but, more specifically, Adam’s job.

When there was a particularly frustrating, tight-lipped suspect, Adam just nudged Ronan gently and he’d turn to the suspect and ask, hypnotically, _What do you truly desire?_ This usually produced a confession of sorts, or a statement solidifying the suspect’s innocence, and it helped them catch a lot of killers early in the investigation.

“Why doesn’t that work on me?” Adam asked one day after a very quick interrogation.

“Huh?”

“The desire thing. I remember you tried it on me when we first met, and it didn’t work.”

Ronan shrugged. “Probably the same reason you make me vulnerable. Some sort of prank from dear old Dad.”

Adam didn’t really think it was a _prank,_ per se, but he wasn’t about to get into that with Ronan, as it would just end in him ranting about God’s horrible parenting skills. “Well, if you ever _want_ to ask me, I’ll tell you,” Adam said, wrapping his arms around Ronan’s waist. He wasn’t a fan of PDA at work, but here, in the empty interrogation room, Adam often liked to take advantage of their alone time.

“Oh yeah?” Ronan grinned wickedly, his hand brushing the hair out of Adam’s eyes. “What is it you really desire, Adam Parrish?”

“To have sex on the interrogation table,” Adam laughed, pushing Ronan backwards till his knees hit the tables end.

“Someone could walk in at any moment, Adam. _Gansey_ could walk in. Gansey could _already be watching_ through the two-way glass and we wouldn’t even know,” Ronan protested, though it was clearly for show—Adam could feel how eager he was to do what he had suggested.

“I walked in on Gansey and Blue having sex once, so we’d just be evening it out,” Adam shrugged, moving to kiss at Ronan’s collarbone.

“You did _what?”_ Ronan said, a look of disgust on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was very important,” Adam laughed. “Plus I don’t really like thinking about them having sex . . . ”

“Yeah, Blue probably fucking rips him to pieces in bed,” Ronan smirked and Adam grimaced, not enjoying the mental image.

“Can we stop talking bout Gansey and Blue?” Adam asked, biting at Ronan’s neck. Ronan’s soft moan served as an answer to that question and they stopped talking.

————

“I don’t exactly want to live above a nightclub, Ro,” Adam said, stirring a pot of spaghetti on the stove while the other man chopped vegetables.

“What, you don’t like Lux?”

“No, I don’t,” Adam laughed. “I’m not a nightclub guy and you know that. I _tolerate_ Lux because I like _you.”_

“I’m offended, Parrish,” Ronan said, chopping an onion a little too aggressively.

“I think I’ve made my thoughts on Lux pretty clear from the beginning…”

“Yeah, but you could have the decency to _pretend_ to like it; spare my feelings and all that shit,” Ronan joked, bumping his hip against Adam’s playfully.

“Okay, fine, I _love_ Lux! It is my favorite place on Earth! But that doesn’t mean I want to _live_ there. People don’t want to _live_ in Disney World,” Adam explained.

Ronan scoffed, faking offense. “Speak for yourself, Parrish. I would love to live in Disney World!” Adam laughed at the mental image of Ronan—the _actual Devil—_ waking up in Cinderella’s castle and grabbing a drink at Epcot, surrounded by young, screaming tourists.

“Well, I for one, would not. I know you love your penthouse, Ro, but I just don’t think I can live there,” Adam admitted, his hand gently stroking Ronan’s bicep as he peeled carrots. The two had only been dating for a few months, but Adam’s lease at his tiny apartment was coming to an end, so moving in together had seemed like a natural solution. Except for the fact that Ronan loved his penthouse and Adam was not keen on coming home every day and pushing through a crowd of sweaty teens to get to his door.

Ronan sighed, finishing slicing the carrot in coins, and then set the knife down, turning to Adam. “Okay,” he agreed.

Adam furrowed his brow. “Okay? It’s that easy?” Adam was taken aback; Ronan was notoriously stubborn.

Ronan shrugged, twining his hands around Adam’s neck and pulling him closer. “I mean, I’m not going to give up the penthouse. I own the building, and still own Lux, and I’m not about to rent it out to some stranger . . . But if you want to find another place together for _us_ , I’m in.”

Adam smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ronan said, punctuating the sentence with a kiss. “Only because that means we’ll get to break in a new mattress together.”

“Gross,” Adam said, slapping him, but he was blushing furiously. _We’re going to live together,_ Adam thought happily a the two kissed, their dinner long forgotten.

———

“She did _what?”_ Gansey exclaimed, a look of terror on his face. They were sitting in Adam and Ronan’s new living room, boxes of pizza and glasses of wine littering the brand new coffee table. Adam was sitting comfortably tucked against Ronan’s side on the couch, with Gansey in the armchair and Blue on the floor between his legs.

“I cut off his dick,” Blue shrugged, as if it was no big deal. Adam fought back the urge to spit out his wine from laughter. Gansey’s face was bright red.

“It was _hilarious,_ ” Ronan agreed, reaching an arm over the table to fist bump Blue, proudly.

“Sounds quite terrifying to me,” Gansey mumbled, looking down at his own groin.

“Don’t worry, honey, I won’t do that to you,” Blue cooed, tilting her head back to look up at him. “Unless you do something really stupid—then, it’s a possibility.”Gansey looked nauseous and Adam swallowed his laugh.

“I mean, it was Hitler for Dad’s sake,” Ronan defended. Somehow their conversation had drifted to discussing notorious residents of Hell; both the ones you’d expect and the ones that surprise you. “She was probably being a bit too kind.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Adam said, shooting Gansey a look that said, _how did we end up here?_ Gansey just shook his head, seemingly still appalled by the notion of Blue cutting off his own dick.

The group kept talking, slowly getting drunker and wilder, until it was late in the evening (or early in the morning). They had just wrapped up a huge case that morning, and everyone had the weekend off (even Blue, who had forced Ronan to hire new bartenders to give her more time off). Adam felt warm and cozy—whether that was because of the booze or his body pressed against Ronan’s, no one knew—and a feeling of contentment spread throughout him. If someone had told him months again that he’d be sitting on the couch in a new apartment with his-boyfriend-the-Devil, his coworker-turned-best-friend and his demon girlfriend, he would have laughed it off and directed them to the nearest psychologist. But now, he can’t imagine anything in his life being different. He and Ronan still had a lot to work out—the whole immortality thing, whether or not he’d have to return to Hell, and a multitude of sibling issues—but things were going well. It felt solid, steady; something Adam hadn’t ever felt in a relationship. 

Blue and Gansey eventually left, stumbling against each other, and Adam realized moments later that he had magically been transported to his bed. He was so tired (and drunker than he usually let himself get) that he hadn’t even registered Ronan gently lifting him off the couch and carrying him to their bedroom. “Ro,” Adam called out sleepily, noticing the empty space beside him.

“Just putting the glasses in the sink,” he called from the kitchen. Adam saw the lights flicker out from the doorway and then Rona was crawling into bed beside him. Adam immediately curled against him, his hands gripping the taut skin of his shoulders.

“I love you,” he whispered, his hands tracing the tips of his tattoo as Ronan kissed his forehead softly.

“I love you too, Adam,” Ronan sighed into his hair. “More than I ever thought possible.”

Adam hummed contently, inching in even closer till their chests were pressed together, Adam’s head in the crook of Ronan’s neck.

No, this was not what Adam had expected from his life, but it was exactly where he wanted to be.

Here, curled up in bed, having fallen in love with a fallen angel.

 _Incredible_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....and that's it! Thank you so much to everyone who constantly supported, read, and commented on this fic. I really was going to give up in the beginning but am so glad people encouraged me to finish it. Please let me know what your thoughts are in the comments -- I love hearing what you guys think!
> 
> The last line "Incredible" is also a nod to the TV show, so apologies to non-Lucifer watchers that might have been confused by that. 
> 
> I have a really fun WIP pynch one-shot I'm hoping to post in the next few days, so keep an eye out for that if you liked this fic!


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